


Instinctual

by hisami_kun



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisami_kun/pseuds/hisami_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What better way to de-stress than with a hot shower and a handjob; maybe a little frottage, if you're into that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instinctual

Hot water runs over Inaho's back and shoulders.

Between piloting the Sleipnir, discussing strategies with the captain, and maintaining some semblance of a social standing with his peers aboard the ship, it's as though he has no time for himself. Which is to be expected; war isn't a leisurely thing.

It's been a while since he's really enjoyed a shower—or had the time to, rather. They've been getting cut short, either by an emergency, or the thought that one might come up.

Steam builds up quickly and Inaho stands under the water for some time, a shiver of delight running through his body as heat spreads over his skin and stimulates every hair follicle. He rolls his shoulder slowly, tension evaporating under the firm spray of the shower head, and he lets out a small sigh of relief. It's not particularly strenuous on his physical health, being a pilot and everything else that comes with it. That's what the training was for. His mental health is pretty good too, as well as his emotional health (not that it's ever really been a question to begin with). It's just nice to be able to take his time.

The water bends its way through his hair, grazing his scalp gently and effectively turning him into jelly. He pushes his bangs back and lets the water pelt his cheeks, chin, and closed eyelids.

Although it's probably an impossible feat for him, the brunette attempts to let his mind go blank; set everything else aside and focus on the way the water wraps him in an almost suffocating heat, the steam finally starting to impair his breathing. He ignores the coughs that try to force themselves up his throat, keeping his attention on the rivulets stroking his body like gentle fingers.

Down his arms, over his stomach, into the dip of his navel, between his thighs...

He lets out another sigh, eyes sliding open to stare at the wall.

Of course, Inaho's body knows itself better than he knows it. Even if he thinks his stress levels are fine, something can always prove him wrong. A stomach ache even though he hasn't eaten, a headache, a hard-on in the shower... Little things.

Brown eyes stare down at himself, following the streams of water racing to their destination down into the Deucalion's drainage system, and land on his halfhearted erection. It's been a while since he's had time to even think about masturbating. Even if he's a male and they (apparently) think about sex twelve times a day, his job doesn't afford him such luxuries. Regardless, he probably wouldn't think about it that often anyway. He's not Calm, after all.

There's the thought in his mind that an emergency might come up, and it keeps him from diving into his body's demands head-first. It's been a good twenty or so minutes since he started showering (see: standing under the water), so he figures if a situation were to come up, it would have already. Either that, or it'll happen while he's getting off. How awkward would that be? How would he manage to hide an erection in his pilot uniform?

"Better be quick," he murmurs, just barely able to hear himself over the water.

The water wrapping itself around his cock breaks off into a new path along his palm and through the spaces between his fingers as he closes his hand around himself, stroking idly. His skin is flushed and the heat from the shower is starting to get uncomfortable and every breath he takes is nothing but steam, but he doesn't want to go too fast.

He steps out from under the water and into one of the corners of the stall where he can't be reached, shivering violently at the loss of heat. The cold surface of the shower stall against his back slowly brings him out of his steam-induced haze.

He purses his lips tightly, fingers sliding over his hardening length with ease, even as his skin starts to dry a bit. How long has it been, he wonders, since the last time? Maybe three months or so... Not a personal record or anything, but with the way his body's reacting to his own touch, a soft moan slipping past his lips, it's probably been too long.

He's just about to settle into a comfortable rhythm when the water in the stall next to his turns on.

Inaho freezes.

"Man, it's been forever since I've taken a real shower..." Calm's voice.

Inaho relaxes again, eyes falling back to what he's doing. As long as he doesn't make too much noise, he should be able to finish undiscovered.

"That's you in there, right Inaho?" the blonde asks over the noise of both of their showers, and it takes almost all of Inaho's willpower to stop himself again.

"Yeah," he answers back, hoping to keep the conversation as short as possible without stirring suspicion. It's not like he's embarrassed or anything; they're human—human boys, at that—and humans are selfish, indulgent creatures. Besides, he's not the only one who's gotten off in the shower. Or anywhere else on the ship, for that matter.

"I saw you heading this way a while ago," the blonde continues. "You've been in there for a while, huh?"

_...Shit_.

Calm's smarter than he's given credit for; Inaho knows that. But it doesn't make it any less unnerving that he's been found out so easily. Then again, he'd probably suspect the same thing if their roles were reversed. He just wouldn't bring it up.

"I don't blame you," Calm continues with the one-sided conversation, as if chatting while masturbating is a thing that the two of them do; like discussing a TV show that they both like. "It's rough being a teenager stuck on a warship."

"That means you do it often," Inaho states, rather than asking. 

Had it not been for their circumstance—if they'd been living normal lives—there's no doubt in Inaho's mind that the blonde would be _that guy_. The one who makes sexual remarks left and right in compensation for his lack of finesse when it comes to the opposite sex. The blonde's already a sucker for any pretty girl who crosses his path; his eagerness about sexuality is nothing out of the ordinary. Not that Inaho can say he's much different. He's caught himself watching the women aboard the ship with him; caught himself admiring the way their uniforms accentuate their figures. He notices the way Inko's hips and thighs have begun filling out; the bounce of Nina's breasts; the curve of Rayet's midriff. He's just as bad as Calm. Probably worse. He's noticed the men, too.

"As often as I can," Calm answers with a chuckle. "Mostly when I'm in the shower... But I've done it in my room a few times."

Inaho doesn't need to be told that. At least the blonde's dealing with his stress in a healthy manner; Calm's terrible under pressure.

"How many times have you done it?" Calm asks after a short silence.

Inaho doesn't answer right away, looking down at himself, half-hard against his palm. His eyebrows furrow a bit. He's not sure how (or why) the blonde expects him to remember every single time he's blown a wad. Or maybe he's just embarrassed because he actually can. This is maybe the fourth time he's done it. This is the first time he's done it in the shower, though.

"Not many," he answers, stroking himself absently. There's no way he's letting it go to waste. "Maybe three times."

"That's all?!" Calm sounds more surprised than Inaho thinks his answer warrants, and it makes him smile to himself. Of course the blonde would think that at least one of the the three other teenage boys around would masturbate as often as he does, just to convince himself that he's not a total prisoner to his hormones—that he's normal. "Then again, I guess it's not that surprising; you don't really seem the type. Besides, you're always so composed."

"It'd be a problem if I lost composure," the brunette answers.

"Yeah," Calm agrees, and Inaho can tell that he's smiling. "I think everyone kind of relies on your for that. If you were to freak out, they'd all lose it." 

Another silence passes between them and Inaho takes it that the conversation's over—or that Calm's busy getting off as well. He's pretty sure that the blonde wouldn't be too enthused about chatting with him while jerking off, so Inaho figures that he thinks the same. At least, until he starts talking again.

"I've always wondered if you do it or not," he says, his voice a little harder to hear over the spray of both showers. Inaho's hand stops again for a moment and he waits. That doesn't sound like a single statement. "I even thought about asking if you knew how. But it's an instinctual thing, huh?"

Of course it is, Inaho thinks. It's a concept implanted in their brains, and once they reach a certain age, they just – start doing it. At least, that's how it was for him. He wasn't told when he'd start having uncontrollable urges to touch himself, or when he'd start noticing his female companions blossoming into women (having an older sister probably subconsciously prepared him for that). He can't imagine having conversations about these sorts of things with Yuki. The thought alone makes him want to press a hand to his face in chagrin.

He's suddenly extremely thankful for Calm.

"Who knows," the brunette answers back, silently hoping that their conversation is really over this time. He wants to get it over with already.

When he hears a light sigh from the other stall, he starts again, wrist twisting with each stroke.

And it's quiet like that for a while.

Inaho can't tell if it's strange or normal, the fact that he and Calm are both jerking off at the same time. If he wants to be truthful, it's kind of erotic. With only two inches of polymer plastic separating him and the blonde, it's all Inaho can think about, and it makes him twitch against his palm.

He tilts his head back and it bumps against the stall wall. His strokes are more controlled now, steady and goal-oriented as his eyes slip closed.

For a brief moment, he wonders how Calm does it. Does he twist his wrist? Does he use short jerk-y motions, or does he prolong each stroke? Does he watch himself, or does he get lost in pleasure? All of these things somehow add to the pressure building in Inaho's lower-stomach.

The pad of his thumb presses into the underside of his shaft, the gentle pressure he puts on himself dropping a shiver down his spine. His lips part and he's about ninety percent certain that he just let out another moan, though he can't hear too well over the noise of the shower. He blinks his eyes open, and looks down at himself, fully-hard and dripping at the slit.

How lewd, he thinks; getting off to the thought of one of his best friends getting off.

While he's mulling over the irony of the situation, hand pumping his erection steadily, the water in the stall next to his goes off. Calm's probably done; he seems like he knows his body in a way that allows him to finish as fast as he needs to. Practice does that.

Inaho waits to hear the other speak—to announce that he's leaving (and to tack on some playful comment telling him to hurry up). But Calm doesn't.

The brunette's eyes catch movement just beyond the flimsy curtain closing him off from the rest of the shower room.

"Hey, Inaho..." Calm's voice sounds ambivalent; it catches Inaho's attention almost entirely.

"Hm?" he answers, watching the blonde's feet through the gap between the curtain and the floor.

"...Wanna do it together?"

The question catches Inaho off-guard, though not much for some reason. While it's not a normal thought for him, he kind of understands. It's part of growing up and discovering sexuality; experimentation. To think that Calm's already mature enough to want to try something like that is what's surprising. He can remember clearly a few months ago when the word 'virgin' made the blonde's face redden like a tomato. He guesses that the other is a bit more mature than he's given credit for as well.

When he takes too long to answer, Calm approaches the curtain, fingers curling around it slowly before he peeks in. Blue eyes slide upwards slowly and land on Inaho's. Inaho watches him silently before speaking.

"Okay."

He gives Calm that answer because either the blonde's masturbating too much or Inaho isn't masturbating enough and it'll probably do them both some good to be on the same page as someone else their age. That, and he just spent nearly ten minutes thinking about the other male; might as well get away with what he can.

Neither of them say anything as the blonde steps into the shower stall and tugs the curtain closed behind himself. The point of no return.

Inaho watches with half-lidded eyes as the blonde walks towards him. Calm's still hard and the brunette can't help but stare at the way his cock bobs between his legs. He's a bit bigger than Inaho would've guessed, though it's not as though he sits around wondering about the size of his friend's dick. Incidentally, Calm isn't one of the men he's noticed. The blonde's physique is also a bit different than Inaho would've guessed. His stomach is flat and his hipbones jut out a bit. He's kind of lanky, though his arms have a bit of definition. It's not much, but enough; proof that he takes his work seriously. It's also the first time he's seen the other with his bangs down.

Calm reaches to turn the shower head towards them, though it only reaches far enough to hit his lower-back as he corners Inaho against the stall wall.

"Are you sure you want to?" the blonde asks, and Inaho almost has to strain to hear him over the water. Part of him wants to be sarcastic about it; ask the blonde how large the ratio of times he's been sure of himself to the amount of times he's been unsure of himself is, maybe just to see Calm's face redden more because it's actually kind of cute. He doesn't respond verbally though, instead reaching to touch the other boy.

His fingers brush along the top side of Calm's erection before wrapping around the shaft securely. Brown eyes flicker upwards when Inaho hears a sharp intake of breath and he gives an experimental squeeze, taking note of the way Calm's eyelashes flutter.

The taller's eyes land on the brunette's face again, and Inaho can see timidness; the same timidness that turned his face red at the sound of a single word and stopped him in his tracks the first time he met Seylum face-to-face. His lack of finesse with the same sex as well, apparently. He's hesitant and probably scared of messing up or something—as if Inaho has any more experience than he does. They're both pretty much at square one at this point.

The brunette smiles a bit.

"You should relax," he says, palm dragging along Calm's rigid flesh.

"He says as he jerks me off," the blonde replies with a breathy chuckle. The desired effect Inaho was hoping his words would have. "I was actually expecting you to let me do all the work; that's how I imagined it happening, at least..."

Inaho's smile widens a bit, and it's all he can do to keep himself from actually laughing. Not so much at Calm, but at the fact that he'd guessed right. Matters involving sexuality are probably the only thing the blonde thinks—or thought—he has an advantage over Inaho in and to be wrong right off the bat is probably embarrassing him more than having his dick touched by another boy is.

"You're not the only one who's curious," he answers before reaching for one of the blonde's hands and guiding it to his own erection. "Here." He doesn't do anything more until Calm's fingers are wrapped around him. "It's instinctual, right?"

The blonde's touch is gentle and uncertain; probably not at all like the firm grip Inaho imagines him having on himself when he's alone, and the thought makes Inaho's cock jump. Calm doesn't say anything, but he makes a sound like a realization's just dawned on him.

"Yeah," he mumbles, tightening his grip on Inaho's length.

They're both focused on what they're doing, hands moving in awkward motions that make Inaho's wrist ache a bit, but that's in the back of his mind as he silently compares himself to Calm. They're about the same thickness, though Calm is longer; it takes Inaho more effort to stroke his entire shaft than it does to do his own. The tip of Calm's cock is bright pink—though that might just be from agitation or the heat from the shower.

He looks up at Calm to see if it's possible to gauge how much longer he has to stroke the blonde for. His wrist is starting to cramp and carpal tunnel definitely isn't supposed to be a part of things. Despite that though, Calm's working him up at a good pace; it's getting a bit hard to focus on anything aside from how it feels.

When the stress on his wrist becomes too much, he stops—which makes Calm stop.

"You okay?" the blonde asks, sounding slightly out of breath, to Inaho's surprise.

"My wrist hurts," he answers, reaching his free hand to rest on Calm's lower-back and pull him closer as he straightens himself up against the stall wall. Calm is quick to respond, catching on immediately.

The blonde closes a hand around both of their cocks, the undersides pressed flush against each other. The friction forces moans from both of them and Calm tilts his hips forward until he's practically pressing himself against the smaller boy, his slender fingers nearly closing around them completely before he starts stroking them in long, quick motions. Inaho's hand falls atop his, but he doesn't really do anything to contribute.

So this is how he does it, he thinks, eyebrows furrowing as he watches the tips of their erections touch every time Calm slides his palm upwards. He's not shy or delicate about it, nor is he rushed despite the fact that it's been a pretty long time since they both came into the shower room. Someone outside is probably suspicious by now if they haven't already figured out what's going on. They could be right outside the stall and neither of them would be able to hear.

"How does it feel?" Calm asks, his half-lidded eyes staring into Inaho's. The brunette doesn't know how to answer (for once in his life) and just nods his head, hoping that Calm understands. There's a smirk on the blonde's lips, so he figures his message got across without difficulty.

Calm's grip tightens again and Inaho's hips buck. His voice comes out in something like a suppressed yelp and he wonders if he's genuinely embarrassed by the noise he's making or just subconsciously worried about being overheard. Whichever it is, Calm notices and laughs a bit.

The blonde is diligent with his movements, wrist twisting in time to give Inaho most of the friction. It's kind of sweet, the way he isn't selfish about things—like Inaho's the inexperienced virgin and Calm's...well. Not. Or maybe it's just another compensation thing, Inaho can't really tell, nor does he care to focus on that right now. He's too busy watching the way their pre-cum mixes together and eliminates some of the resistance between them and the slight roughness of Calm's palm. He watches the way Calm's semen oozes out of him and over the backs of his fingers, whereas his own beads at the slit neatly only to be disturbed when the blonde swipes his hand over it quickly.

The rhythm is steady, though Inaho can tell that Calm's getting impatient. His grip is a bit tighter, his body is leaning against the brunette's a bit heavier, his breaths are a bit shorter.

"You're holding back," he observes through the haze building in his mind. Calm doesn't respond verbally, but Inaho notices the immediate change in his demeanour, like he's been caught cutting corners. "You don't have to; it's not like you're inside me." The blatant comment makes Calm's hand falter and Inaho tries not to let himself laugh.

"If you say so," the blonde says with a chuckle, his eyes flickering upwards to meet Inaho's for a moment before disappearing behind his damp lashes once more.

Calm's hips press to Inaho's a bit more firmly, the pressure against his groin making the brunette's toes curl the slightest bit. He leans into it and presses back, back arching against the stall wall just a bit; Calm isn't giving him much room to move.

It's when Calm's hips roll slowly that Inaho starts losing his composure. His face stays calm like it always does, but his mind and body are a few seconds short of going into a frenzy. His toes curl harder and he reaches for Calm's hips, pulling at them gently.

He hears a light chuckle.

"You like it when I do that, huh?" the blonde asks without seeking an answer, pushing his hips into Inaho's again. The brunette doesn't respond much more than the first time, but the build-up is becoming gradual and he lets a soft moan out through his nose. "You don't always have to keep your composure." His forehead rests against the top of Inaho's head. The brunette looks up at him before he takes in Calm's current posture.

He's aware that the blonde is taller than him (he's going to be the last to hit a growth spurt, apparently), but he was never particularly aware of just _how much_ taller Calm really is. It hits him with the way the other is practically looming over him, blue eyes downcast and focused on their combined pleasure. They've never been this close to one another and Inaho finds himself subconsciously counting the freckles dotting his friend's face. He's never thought much of them before, but there's something charming about the blonde's discolouration; like constellations on his skin.

He gets lost somewhere between thirty and forty and his hips jerk involuntarily at a particularly rough squeeze from Calm.

The blonde is watching him closely now, eyes lidded and serious as he starts rocking his hips steadily, his hand stilling to let the friction work on its own. Their skin is sticky with cum and sweat and Inaho thinks it's the most ironic thing in the world because they're in the shower, but he doesn't have time to ponder the ironies of their situation (which may or may not be an irony in and of itself) because Calm is leaning over him and breathing heavily next to his ear.

The blonde's head turns slightly and Inaho nearly jumps when Calm's nose brushes the shell of his ear.

"You move too," he says softly, breath catching in his throat. Inaho nods wordlessly.

It's hard to move when Calm is this close to him, but he isn't hindered completely. His back presses to the stall wall and he arches his hips upwards, feeling sparks of pleasure race up his spine synonymously with a sharp intake of breath on Calm's part. He repeats the action until he's got a steady rhythm going, the sound of Calm's moans filling his left ear.

Inaho tilts his head down as much as he can in their close proximity, unfocused eyes barely able to watch the way their cocks rub against each other in the confinement of Calm's encircled fingers. He brings a hand to fill the gap where the blonde's fingers don't quite close and hears something like a hum of appreciation before Calm bucks into him, jostling him against the stall wall.

"Ah—..." The sound is more out of surprise than anything else, but it's not as though it turns him off.

And it's just as Calm said; instinctual.

Inaho's fairly certain that neither of them had expected things to turn out like this—with Calm holding one of his legs around his waist while he clings to the blonde's shoulders to keep himself balanced. At most, he expected there to be mutual touching and maybe a blowjob somewhere along the way. But here they are, propped up against the shower stall wall in a very uncomfortable position, humping like bunnies.

For a second Inaho thinks maybe he should've let Calm inside of him.

Calm's the first one to approach orgasm. Inaho can hear it in the way his moans have suddenly increased, and the way his thrusts begin falling apart—sharp and erratic—like unraveled cloth. He can feel Calm's shoulders tremble and hear the way the blonde's breath hitches before he lets out another moan, shaky and laced with lack of experience.

Inaho's not too far behind, wrist jerking desperately to help him along because Calm actually sounds pretty sexy and it's hard to not want to cum to the weak moans that the other is still supplying his left ear with despite his body having calmed down already.

The brunette clamps his eyes shut hard enough for his vision behind his eyelids to splotch with faded colours and his hips jerk unceremoniously when he reaches his climax. His body seizes up and his back arches as far as Calm's weight on him will let it and he's not loud, but he can just barely hear himself over the spray of the shower. His voice sounds weak in his own ears; a mantra of inarticulate sounds. His legs are jelly again.

Water hitting the floor is all they hear for the next little while, aside from one another's breathing. Calm waits until Inaho's breath is steady again before lifting himself off of the brunette. Inaho's eyes open slowly and the blonde is looking down at him with those blue eyes with constellations between them. Calm drops his leg gently and for the next few minutes, all Inaho focuses on his keeping himself upright.

He feels like he's just woken up from a heavy nap, and he's sure that the excessive heat has something to do with it, the weight of consciousness sitting heavy on his brain.

The fog clears quickly, and once he's stable again, the first thing the brunette does is reach for the faucet. The water's run cold by now, all traces of steam gone. Whoever comes in after them is more than likely going to be utterly pissed and while Inaho can't blame them, he can't find it in himself to be sorry about it either.

Calm's already out of the stall, having rinsed himself off (and loudly announced that the hot water's gone) and stepped out to get a towel. Inaho settles for wetting a part of his own towel and wiping himself off to clean up before stepping out of the stall to join Calm in getting dressed. There's no way in hell he's going to stand under a cold spray; besides, the cool air outside of the stall is more than enough to sober him up a bit more.

"Hey, Inaho..."

He turns to look at the blonde and he waits to hear it; the metaphorical (or not-so, maybe) "no homo" that Inaho's about ninety-five percent certain is going to come out of Calm's mouth because the blonde is probably _that guy_ regardless of how normal or abnormal their lives are. But it never comes.

"You're pretty cute when you cum; I've never seen that face on you before." Well that's definitely not a 'no homo'. Not that Inaho's complaining about being wrong.

"Does that mean you want to see it again?" he asks, just to make Calm say it.

"You know the answer to that," the blonde says with a glare, the corner of his lips tilting upwards the slightest.

Inaho does know the answer to that, so he only smiles to himself as he gets dressed, letting the conversation die there.

**Author's Note:**

> LOL this was supposed to be slaine/inaho but then i was like hEY CALM EXISTS. but yoooo are you kidding me no one's ever written these two? dang. on that note, this is probably the shortest pwp i've ever written lmao.


End file.
